Perinatal Mental Health: I hid from people, kept my head down and pretended I wasn’t pregnant.

I distinctly remember the day that everything changed. It was the day I realised that I’d completely lost myself…

After a, quite frankly terrifying, miscarriage with huge blood loss, I’d found myself pregnant again. Having had two successful pregnancies and births beforehand, I’d hoped I could lean into this pregnancy safe in the knowledge my body would keep this baby safe again just as it had twice before. But at my early reassurance scan, I’d learned I was pregnant with twins and sadly by my 12 week scan, there was no foetal heartbeat in one.

Fast forward to the middle of my pregnancy with the surviving twin and I realised I wasn’t present at all in this pregnancy. I’d ignored any symptoms of miscarriage and that things could be wrong in the past and I carried the guilt of that with me into this pregnancy. This time around, I wanted to tune into everything. Every. Little. Thing. This wasn’t normal. I worried about everything. Worry over every scan and re-scan, growth, movements and counting kicks consumed me. I couldn’t allow myself to feel excitement. I felt buying things would be a waste of money.

Placing my hand on my pregnant tummy, something I rarely did in this pregnancy anyway, gave me an uncomfortable feeling. A feeling of severe anxiety, panic, utter turmoil. So, I didn’t. Buying bits for the baby and nesting, didn’t bring me joy. These things brought sadness; I was almost grieving for a baby I hadn’t yet lost.  I didn’t want to announce my pregnancy because then I would have to tell people I’d lost another baby. I hid from people, kept my head down and pretended I wasn’t pregnant choosing to ignore my pregnant tummy and the movement I felt inside. This was my third pregnancy, but I just could not relax into it at all. I had lost all hope of my pregnancy being successful and I couldn’t allow myself to feel happiness and excitement or prepare to birth and bring home a baby I truly thought I would never be so lucky as to have.

On the outside, I was my usual bubbly self. I used humour to mask how I really felt. Behind closed doors, at any point I was alone, truly alone, I sobbed. I sobbed so hard, I could hear that sob in my breath and feel it in my chest long after but in front of others, I appeared perfectly fine. I thrust myself into my work. I worked additional hours at a time I should have been resting more and preparing for our new arrival. Why you may ask? Because work was the best distraction for me, and avoidance was my go-to for self-protection.

One day, at a midwife appointment, when they asked the question about my mental health-you know the one, I plucked up the courage to share how I felt. I blurted everything out, like word vomit. My midwife, who was amazing, listened, handed me the tissues and picked up the phone to call the perinatal mental health team in our area.

That is when my life changed.

Maybe that sounds dramatic, but the perinatal, mental health team literally improved the quality of my life.

My referral was sent, the initial paperwork had been completed and I’d had my first call with a member of the team. I was assigned an OT who worked as a mental health nurse. We built up a relationship and I trusted her so that I could be really honest with her. She was kind and friendly and warm and she really took her time with me. She listened and validated what I was experiencing. She still does today.

I told her everything. My story, my pregnancy journey and I opened up about my fears. I told her I was scared every day of something happening to our unborn child because of my previous experiences with loss. She did some grounding work with me and mindfulness techniques which helped to ease my anxiety but ultimately her main job at the time was get me across the finish line safely. She wrote me a birth plan which was honoured and respected so much by the team that helped me during labour. It informed them of my triggers and the techniques I had used in the past when I felt anxious and overwhelmed.

We welcomed our beautiful baby girl safely into the world and I instantly bonded with her. It was magical.

At this point, you may think my story ends there but what followed was even more difficult.

Every day, I felt like the rug was going to be pulled from under me. That my bubble would be burst and the happiness I felt would be taken from me in some cruel and horrific way.

I was scared of the daily things in life, like being in a car, crossing the road, walking beside a road all whilst with my children, I was so scared something would happen to them, not me, them. If they became ill, my fears were so irrational and would spiral out of control. I began to suffer with intrusive thoughts which would play through my mind like a horror movie with my family members in the starring roles. Being this anxious and on high alert was both exhausting and mentally and physically draining. It was consuming my life. Alongside this, I learned I was suffering from PTSD.

My mental health nurse had been visiting me at home regularly since my birth and during our discussions, which had remained very honest and open, recognised I was traumatised and still experiencing debilitating anxiety.

I was quickly put in touch with a psychiatrist and reluctantly met with him. I was breastfeeding our baby, something I was and still am very passionate about and I feared the introduction of medication into my treatment would somehow affect our baby or our breastfeeding journey. I was prescribed some medication that was safe to take whilst breastfeeding and I could take PRN (which basically meant as and when needed) and this really helped me cope with my most anxious days.

In addition to this, I was put on a waitlist to receive therapy from one of the members of the team.

Sometime later, my therapy began.

I’m still in therapy now.

I’m learning a lot about myself and I’m receiving some intense therapies, namely EMDR and CBT to try to help me reprogram my brain and alleviate my anxieties.

As I look back across the year, I can see a change in who I am. I’ve been in therapy for over a year now and I will soon be discharged as our daughter turns one. I’ve invested a lot of time in my mental health, attending sessions weekly and sharing my story with my friends and family members to help them understand which in turns allows my brain to become desensitised to my trauma and triggers and install new, future templates. My work remains ongoing and will for some time. Ultimately, I hope that sharing this will normalise perinatal mental health, highlight the incredible work by the practitioners within the team, acknowledge that mental health is an illness like any other you would visit the doctor for and maybe even reach someone who feels in a similar position to let them know, they are not alone.